Yuka Ishii's novel is written in a stream-of-consciousness style, which is deep and profound.
A thoroughly enjoyable post-diluvian procession of flashbacks and reminiscences feature in this cross-cultural work, which takes the reader from locales in Japan to India 🇮🇳: Madras of old, Chennai of new, and beyond to the Manikarnika Ghat adjacent the Ganga.
Competently and compassionately translated from the Japanese by Haydn Trowell, the message of Ishii's debut novel is evocatively encapsulated in the protagonist Nogawa's own words:
"More important to me were the words that were never spoken, the words that could have been."
"In Yūka Ishii’s slender debut novel, The Mud of a Century, a girl sweeps resentment off a pillow where it had come to rest. Wealthy Indians fly above Chennai’s gnarled traffic on mechanical wings, staring at their phones. People sink into blanketing mud or riotous flowerbeds to hide or sleep until someone scoldingly retrieves them. Lost objects resurface like memories in impossible places. Mermaids might be real and perhaps the mother of Nogawa, the novel’s narrator, was one.
A once-in-a-century flood has swept through Chennai, leaving the city coated in a thick mud that is now rushing down the normally torpid Adyar River. Nogawa is just months into a job teaching English to employees of a tech company in Chennai that will last for who knows – four years, seven? It will end when she has paid off her debts to her irate ex-husband, debts incurred on behalf of feckless other lovers. As a “half-hearted teacher”, taking the job is a deal tantamount to “karmic perdition”. Her best student, Devaraj, is also her most vexing one: “I had developed a bald spot around the size of a ten-yen coin in the top of my head, at least eight yen of which was due to this young man.”
To reveal more about the narrative and characters of this wryly humorous and enchanting novel might give the misleading impression that it has a plot in the usual sense of the word. The Mud of a Century is rather a trickster of a tale, a metaphorical mudflow from which the narrator extracts stories in the same way that the people around her pull sons and friends from the sludge."
Very easy to read and written in a way that keeps you engaged throughout the hundred or so pages. I feel as though the elements of magical realism had their potential but never reached a point to where it felt purposeful enough. Maybe the translation took away some finer aspects but I found myself wanting a lot more than I was ever satisfied with.